


until the sun comes up

by complicationstoo



Series: STB Bingo Round One [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Hopeful Ending, Knight Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prince Tony Stark, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complicationstoo/pseuds/complicationstoo
Summary: Tony spends most of his day waiting for the moment he can return to his bedroom. When he opens the door, Steve is there, sitting on the edge of his bed and leaning back on his elbows. His shoes and socks have been discarded already, tucked neatly against the far wall, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. The deep red of his sheets is a sharp contrast against Steve’s fair complexion, and Tony would be lying if he said that wasn’t why he likes the color so much. He looks up with a brilliant smile, and Tony feels something inside of him settle.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: STB Bingo Round One [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037892
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107
Collections: STB Bingo: Round One





	until the sun comes up

**Author's Note:**

> today is the one year anniversary of the first time I ever posted on here, and I couldn't let that go without a post :) also tried something kind of different on this one, so let me know what you think!
> 
> this is for my Steve | Tony | Bucky Bingo square:  
> B5 - historical au

Tony spends most of his day waiting. He rises early in the morning, dresses quickly, then waits for it to be time for breakfast. Breakfast is spent next to his father and mother, listening with little interest as they discuss the issues of their kingdom. It’s not that the issues disinterest him per se. After all, he knows that as the prince he is expected to one day solve the issues himself, but it’s the circular nature of the discussions he can’t stand. The back and forth on what each potential solution’s outcome might be, until the only answer they have is that there is no perfect right answer, which Tony could have told them right at the beginning. So he listens to the issue and tunes out the rest, working it out for himself without hearing a word of what they say. Sometimes his mother will ask him for his thoughts, and he always shares them. Most of the time no one bothers, and he just waits until the moment he is excused to attend his lessons. 

He plays the piano to the best of his ability, which is never quite good enough for his teacher. He practices his French and writes the words out with his quill, the motions repetitive and unnecessary with how many years he’s already been at it. All of the lessons feel that way, really, and his mind feels caged with how little it can test its limit. It’s just more waiting, more longing to be anywhere else but there. 

By the time dinner comes around, he’s crawling out his skin with it, but there’s always someone he should be talking to instead of thinking about what will come next. Some nights it’s a potential suitor, though his father never comes outright and says it. He introduces them as the lord or duke or prince of whatever kingdom is vying for their allyship, and Tony spends the night engaging in half-hearted flirtations with a man he will never have any interest in. Those are the nights he likes the least, and tonight just has to be one of them. 

He listens to the words of the other prince without absorbing a single one of them, pushing his food around and occasionally taking small bites whenever his father casts a look in his direction. Tony isn’t sure which kingdom he comes from, wasn’t paying much attention during the introductions. He’s attractive enough, which Tony has to give his father some credit for, with his dark hair and bluish green eyes, but his voice is a monotonous buzz of words without any meaning. The kind of man that talks just to be heard, and Tony’s never had much patience for that type. 

The cadence of the last sentence indicates a question, and Tony smiles and nods and hopes that he wasn’t expecting anything more. One of these days he might accidentally accept a marriage proposal because he didn’t hear it, but his response seems to have appeased his current conversational partner. 

At the end of the dinner, he lets the man kiss his hand, then wipes off the trace of him on his shirt as he leaves the dining room. He makes sure he isn’t being followed before breaking into a run down the hallway to his bedroom, and the wait is finally over once he opens the door. 

Steve is there, sitting on the edge of his bed and leaning back on his elbows. His shoes and socks have been discarded already, tucked neatly against the far wall, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. The deep red of his sheets is a sharp contrast against Steve’s fair complexion, and Tony would be lying if he said that wasn’t why he likes the color so much. 

He looks up with a brilliant smile, and Tony feels something inside of him settle. A sense of peace washes through him, making his muscles loosen and posture relax. He can breathe a little easier at the sight of his lover, who looks so at home in Tony’s bedroom.

Tony takes a few steps forward, shedding his outermost layers along the way and tossing them on the floor just to get Steve’s face to scrunch up like it always does when he acts carelessly with the expensive items. By the time he reaches the bed, only his undershirt and pants remain. 

He cups Steve’s face in his hands and once again resists the urge to make the remark that Steve is the only thing in his life that deserves to be handled with care. The only valuable and precious thing he sees in the vast rooms of the castle. But he knows Steve doesn’t enjoy being treated like something delicate and wouldn’t take the comment for the confession that it is. 

“I missed you, my love,” Tony whispers. 

Steve lays his hands over top of his, stroking his thumbs across Tony’s knuckles. His smile turns soft and fond, and Tony knows that he is the only man lucky enough to ever see it quite like that. He leans down, kissing Steve sweetly. 

“How was your day?” Steve asks. 

Tony shrugs, crawling up the bed to rest against the numerous pillows. He opens his arms in invitation, and Steve is pressed against him moments later. 

“How was yours?”

“Ah, avoidance. So it was one those days, then,” Steve gives him a crooked smile, adjusting his position to rest his head on Tony’s chest, and Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s slender frame. “I worked with Peter on his swordsmanship. He’s getting better at dodging.”

Tony smiles into Steve’s hair, keeping himself from getting caught up in wishing he could have been there to see it by thinking about that first time he ever saw Steve all those years ago when he was in the same position Peter is in now. 

No one took Steve seriously as a potential defender of the crown. His sword looked like it was heavier than the boy himself, and even Tony will admit to thinking that Steve looked like he could be taken down by a stiff breeze. But he still bristled when his father made the same comment and found himself hoping that he would prove everyone in attendance wrong. Tony remembers the expression on his father’s face clearly when he did. 

It would be a long time before they would get to where they are today, accompanied by so many missteps that Tony would lose hope many times along the way, but the journey was worth it for the piece of heaven in his arms right now. 

“You’ll have him whipped into shape soon enough, I’m sure,” Tony replies, his fingers drifting absentmindedly up and down Steve’s arm. “He’ll make a fine warrior.”

Steve hums and says too casually, “I saw Prince Stephen was in attendance tonight.”

“He was indeed.”

“And?”

“And I am in bed with you.”

Steve tilts his head up, and Tony meets his eyes. “They’re going to make you choose someone eventually.”

They’ve had this discussion before, Steve and him, so many times in fact that Tony has the script memorized already. 

“We’ll come up with something when they do.”

Here’s where Steve should agree with him, then kiss him until he leaves Tony breathless. A possessive action, as though Tony needs the reminder of to whom his heart belongs in full. The rest of their clothing should fall off, and Steve will no longer care if it lands on the floor as long as it ends with them completely intertwined until the sun comes up. 

But tonight he whispers, “What if we can’t?”

Tony turns, shifting down the bed until his face is even with Steve’s. His blue eyes are watery, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and Tony has never seen the other man cry before. He refuses to let it happen now. 

“We will,” he says firmly, taking Steve’s face in his hand once again. He caresses his cheek with a brush of his thumb. “We will because I love you, and that’s all that matters to me. They’ll either learn to live with it or they’ll lose their only heir.”

“And you’d let the kingdom fall to Stane?”

Tony hesitates, and Steve says, “I am not the only thing that matters, nor do I wish to be. You might not care for your title, but I know you care for your people, and if it comes down to it, me or our kingdom, please do not choose me.”

“How can I not?” Tony asks, vision blurry with unshed tears of his own. 

Steve’s smile is bittersweet. “I can be the first to walk away. I can do that for you, if that’s what you need.”

Tony rolls to his back, staring up at the ornate gold decor on the ceiling. He wasn’t prepared to have his heart broken today. 

“Do we need to talk about this tonight?” Tony asks, turning his head to look at Steve again. “We still have time. The law says - we still have more time. Please. Just let me have you for now.”

Steve stares at him for a long moment, assessing eyes burning right through him, before he gives a slight nod. “I’m yours.”

_ Mine,  _ Tony thinks, and for now he can let that be all that matters. 

He knows that Steve is right, knows deep in his bones that there is no option where he gives up the throne no matter how much he idealizes that version of the future. He can fantasize all he likes about running away and starting anew with Steve at his side, but that’s all it can ever be. A fantasy.

There’s still a distant hope, though. Rules can be bent and finding loopholes is something like a pastime of his. He won’t give up on the chance of a future with Steve, not even with all of the odds against him. 

So for tonight he kisses Steve slowly, runs his hands down his sides with an unhurried fervor, and lets himself believe that they can have this forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@ifmywishescametrue](https://ifmywishescametrue.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
